


Mutt

by TwistedTale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Ethics, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Many Triggers You have Been Warned, Muggles can be cruel, Slavery, This is not a kind world, Wizarding Pets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-04-18 13:09:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14213832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedTale/pseuds/TwistedTale
Summary: In a world where witches and wizards are kept as prized pets, Hermione Granger fights to keep her magic under wraps. But after her mother buys her one Tom Riddle as a graduation gift she is finding it harder and harder to keep her secret.





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione sighed and opened the door to her room.

 

“Crookie you will not believe the day-”

 

The rest of the words on her tongue turned to ash in her mouth. Where her beloved cat should have been stretched out on her bed, was a man. The man’s arms were crossed behind his head as he lounged against her pillows with a nonchalant grace, and one long, _long_ leg was draped down along the side of her bed to lazily swing back and forth. She gaped stupidly as the man’s dark eyes slowly opened from the light doze he had apparently been taking and a lazy smirk crossed his thin lips.

 

“Welcome home Mistress.” His words were like warm chocolate to her ears.

 

“Er,” was all she could manage.

 

He stood, stretched- her mouth went dry at the sight of his bare chest- and gave a short little bow. “How may I serve you today?”

 

_Serve-? Oh no, she didn’t… she wouldn’t dare!_

 

Keeping her eyes on this handsome stranger she took a few hasty steps back until she was in the hallway. “Muuuuuum?” She called down the staircase.

 

“Hermione? Are you home already?” Her mother shouted back.

 

“Mum, why is a man in my bedroom?”

 

“Oh drat, that was supposed to be a surprise, hold on a moment dear!”

 

The man stared at her as intently as she was staring at him, his head tilted to the side, much like a curious puppy who had heard something particularly interesting.

 

Slowly, his eyes traced her up and down and she felt as if he was sizing her up. Chills worked their way down her spine and as if he knew the effect he had on her he grinned, bearing perfectly straight, pearly teeth. Hermione only dared to look away from him when her mother came bounding up the stairs. The older woman was almost trembling in excitement as she looked between her daughter and the handsome man.

 

“So, what do you think?”

 

“Mum,” her tone was low, scolding, and the elder Granger’s enthusiasm evaporated.

 

“You don’t like Tom?”

 

“Mum,” she repeated. “Tell me he isn’t a wizard. Tell me you didn’t _buy_ him.”

 

The older woman’s mouth twisted into a frown and she wrung her hands together. “Well I didn’t _buy_ him buy him. I got him at the shelter for a modest adoption fee.”

 

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “You mean the orphanage, where they _take_ infants from their parents and _sell them_ as _slave labor._ ”

 

The woman sighed and rolled her eyes up the ceiling and Hermione watched as she silently mouthed ‘God give me strength’ before returning her attention to her daughter. “Hermione, dear, you know I love you and respect your little projects-”

 

“Causes mother, they are causes-”

 

“Causes then.” The older woman interrupted. “But sweetheart, everyone at university will have a magical except for you. You have had such a hard time fitting in I only thought-”

 

“No, you didn’t think about me at all, if you did you would know how upset this makes me!”

 

“Hermione-”

 

Before her mother could get one more disappointed syllable out Hermione stomped into her room and slammed the door. She quickly locked it, grabbing the handle for good measure so her mother couldn’t pop the cheap lock, and pressed her forehead against the heavy wood of the door. She shut her eyes and took deep calming breaths as her mother furiously knocked.  

 

“HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER YOU DO NOT SLAM THE DOOR-”

 

Hermione slowly opened her eyes with a frown, it wasn’t like her mother to give up so soon let alone mid rant.

 

“I do apologise mistress, but she was giving me a headache.”

 

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the chocolate voice behind her and whipped around. She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks as the man’s eyes bore into hers again and a sly smirk crossed his lips.

 

“Forgot I was here?”  He tilted his head to the side again. “Mistress.” He added offhandedly.

 

“Yes, I mean no, I mean,” she took another breath. “Thank you.”

 

He shrugged, and the lean muscles that covered his torso rippled at the action. _Oh good lord._

 

“It was just a simple silencing spell.”

 

“Still, I appreciate it..”

 

“It is my duty to serve.”

 

A sudden rage pooled in the pit of her stomach. “No it isn’t!”

 

He blinked at her sudden venom. “No?”

 

“No.” She affirmed.

 

Hermione gently let go of the door knob, her mother had finally stopped fiddling with it. Her hand hovered over the knob a few seconds more, just in case the older woman wanted to try again, before she finally dared to step away.

 

 _I am going to pay for this later._ She thought with a sigh and tried not  look at the wizard as she made her way to her closet.  She failed miserably. It was as if he were made of magnets and her eyes were made of metal. Hermione all but sighed in relief to have the closet to distract her.

 

“You shouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, no one should.” She muttered, flipping through her wardrobe until she found one of her father’s giant t-shirts she liked to sleep in. Slowly she pulled it from it's hanger and turned to face the wizard again. His black eyes were sharp as he stared at her, and his thin lips were curved into a frown. His frown deepened as she thrust the shirt into his hands.

 

“What is this for?”

 

“For you,” one perfect eyebrow went up, “To wear.” She clarified. The other eyebrow joined its twin. She sighed. “I assume it’s rather uncomfortable to just stand around in some stranger’s room with only your trousers on.”

 

“I have found it rather depends on the stranger.” He said as he slipped the shirt over his head. It did not suit him at all. _Manny the Molar is a hard look to pull off though._ She thought as she eyed the cartoon tooth that grinned proudly on Tom’s chest.

 

“I can’t imagine I would ever feel comfortable without all of my clothes on, no matter the situation.”

 

He casually strolled over to her massive bookshelf, eyeing the titles critically. “So then you lack confidence in your body?”

 

Her back went ramrod straight. “ _I do not lack confidence!_ ” She hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. “ _Normal_ people don’t feel comfortable without their clothes on!”

 

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

 

That brought her up short. “You know Hamlet?”

 

“Is that so surprising?” He retorted as he pulled out a slim volume whose title she couldn’t see, and started to flip through it.

 

“Yes.” She responded instantly. “As a matter of fact, I have not met a single well read witch or wizard... at least none that I know of.”

 

He peered over his shoulder at her, his dark eyes swirling with some emotion she couldn’t name, but it held her memorized.  “I suppose that makes me special then, doesn’t it.”

 

It wasn’t a question, and his boldness startled her. “Who _are_ you?”

 

He shut her book with a loud snap and carefully slid it back into place. With an elegant turn he was facing her again and maintaining eye contact swept into a low bow. “I am Tom Riddle, pardon my rudeness mistress.”

 

She was sure her entire body was red. “Please, you don’t have to do that. My name is Hermione.”

 

He straightened up. “Hermione?” He said her name slowly, and the feeling of being judged returned. “From ‘The Winters Tale’?”

 

“You _are_ well read.” She muttered.

 

“My previous mistress had an extensive library.” His smile twisted into something dark and shivers raced down her spine.

 

Hermione frowned. Usually when a witch or wizard was adopted into a family, they were kept for life. _He can’t be much older than I am._  “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to her?”

 

“Dead.”

 

She flinched. “Oh, I am so sorry.”

 

His lips twitched again. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew her.”

 

Hermione frowned. “That isn’t polite to say.”

 

Those black eyes glittered with malice and she took a nervous step back. “She wasn’t a woman one was polite to.”

 

 _Leave it be Hermione._ A voice that sounded suspiciously like her old friend Harry mentally whispered.

 

“She didn’t treat you well did she?”

 

“Oh she treated me exceedingly well,” he purred and shivers went down her spine. “Very much like a pampered dog.” He tilted his head to the side again and shut his eyes. “Your mother has finally abandoned her post at the door, if you would like to make a quick escape now is your chance.”

 

“How-?”

 

“Magic, mistress.”

 

Hermione glanced at the door, uncertain. “ I can’t just leave you here alone with her.”

 

“I am afraid that you must, I have not been licensed in your name and therefore I cannot leave the premises until you do that, and collar me.”

 

Hermione had almost forgotten the disgusting practice. The law was clear when it came to magical kind, without the binding collar and appropriate tags he would be labeled a stray. Any stray caught on the street would either be put down or, if they were young enough, taken back to the shelters. Tom would most like avoid death if she was with him, but having an uncollared magical could get her fined and he would _still_ be taken away.

 

She reached up to rub her temples and sighed in frustration. “My mother has them doesn’t she?”

 

“I am afraid so, mistress.”

 

“Please, don’t call me that. My name is Hermione.”

 

“As you wish… Hermione.”

 

There were those chills down her spine again. _Good grief get a hold of yourself girl, you have spoken to good looking men before without loosing it like this and don’t forget he is a_ **_wizard_ **. “Yes, good, very good, I suppose I should go talk to her about it then just- stay here, please?”

 

The corners of his lips quirked. “As you command.”

 

Hermione gave a curt nod and all but ran from her room, as she closed her door behind her she could swear she could hear small bouts of laughter coming from the other side. _Is he laughing at me?_ She wondered, scarlet cheeked, then decided it didn’t matter. Tom wasn’t what she needed to be thinking about right now, it was the battle lines that were about to be drawn with her mother.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom reclined against the bed, and dozed.

Or at least that is what it would look like to anyone who happened to come upon him. In actuality he was checking over his mental barriers, sealing cracks, organizing his thoughts. 

He was a walking dead man. 

A tremor rippled over his barrier and he clamped down on it hard before it could cause more damage. He was alive, and as long as he played his cards right, that would not be put at risk again. Tom pulled up the image of the kennel he had been trapped in for the past week, and wrapped it in mental chains- burying it deep into his subconscious where it wouldn’t bother him again. He didn’t have time for fear, he was alive, and with time he would be free. A life without cages, collars, and masters.

With that bolstering thought he opened his eyes again, blinking slowly as natural light assaled his senses. It had been too long since he had seen the sun. Suddenly restless he sprung from the bed and made his way over to the window. His chest and shoulders itched in discomfort under the unfamiliar rubbing of the shirt he now wore. With an annoyed grunt he pulled the offending thing off and dropped it in his haste to get to the window. Tom tried not to tear the delicate white curtains in his haste to pull them back and managed to get them out of his way without damage, but it was a close thing.

Later he would worry about his lack of control, but for now feeling the light and the warmth against his skin was pure bliss. It was odd the things being locked deep underground caused you to crave. I am alive he thought, shutting his eyes again, reveling in feeling once more and I will never let myself come so close to death again.

His ear twitched when the door to the bedroom opened again, and he had to resist the urge to smirk at the sudden intake of breath from the little muggle. My new mistress enjoys the view. Tom opened his eyes slowly and looked over his current captor. Her cheeks were rosey red with embarrassment and she was awkwardly trying to look everywhere but him. Getting what I want from her will be easier than I thought if she can’t even handle looking at me without blushing. That was when he took note of the small tray of food in her hands.

Tom’s gut suddenly lurched and he grimaced, fighting down the hunger induced nausea as it clawed at him. When was the last time he had eaten? Three days he idly thought as he tried to ignore the smell of fresh food. The shelter didn’t like to waste resources on wizards they were planning to put down. 

The girl, Hermione, seemed to finally work up the courage to look at him directly and held out the tray. 

“It's not much, but its the best I could do for now. Mum has commandeered the kitchen.”

For him? 

It took everything he had not to act like a starving beast and lunge at her. He clamped down on the urge with his mental shields, gaining back much needed self control. Instead he carefully approached her with deliberate steps, it wouldn’t do to spook her if he moved too quickly. Who knew how long it would be before she would feed him again if he scared her?

With care he bowed his head in thanks and took the tray from her hands, fingers accidentally brushing hers. The small ‘Eep!’ she let out made him smirk. Without a word he picked an unused corner of the room and slid down the wall until he was sitting. Balancing the tray on his knees, he grabbed the plastic fork next to the steaming plate and began to eat. 

It was hot, it was fresh, it was good and he let out a small satisfied sound when he finished. His eyes flickered up to meet Hermione’s as he gently set the tray aside, her cheeks were the color of ripe tomatoes.

“Thank you.” 

“Well I couldn’t let you go hungry.” She mumbled, tucking a curl behind her ear and turning away from him. She was working her bottom lip between her teeth, and her eyes were fixed on her bed. He glanced over at it himself, looking over the mussed blankets and guessed at what she was thinking of. Sex between a magical and a muggle was illegal everywhere but the states, not that the laws stopped people. His previous mistress frequently turned him into her favorite sexual plaything, and hatred rose up inside him at the memories. It wasn’t easy to school his features into netuality, but he managed. If she wanted him, there was nothing he could do to stop her.

“I- I have to collar you now.” 

Ah, so that was what was on her mind, his tense muscles relaxed. It was foolish of him to expect an activist of all people to order him to bed- no if she wanted him she would ask him. He blinked when he realized she expected an answer.

“It is the law.” He said slowly.

She slumped and sighed, reaching into her pocket to pull out a familiar metal collar. Her thumb rubbed over one of the binding runes as she looked it over. What she was looking for he didn’t know, but she clearly wasn’t finding it.

“Mistress?”

Hermione jerked at the sound of his voice and her mouth twisted as if she had eaten a sour candy. 

“Sorry,” she muttered.

What she was apologising for, he couldn't be sure. For being distracted? For collaring him? He looked into her eyes, at the distress written there, and decided it was both. He straightened his back, and leaned gently forward, bearing his neck. Every rebellious thought he had rose up at his submission, but he stamped it down. This isn’t forever he promised himself this is temporary. He could feel the warmth of her fingers first, gently touching the pale strip of skin where his old collar used to lie. Her eyes were molten with rage and self disgust as she fitted the cold metal around his neck in the same space. As soon as the collar snapped shut it sealed and re adjusted to comfortably fit his neck. 

A tiny prickle against his throat and a sharp stab of the collars needle made him grunt and he saw Hermione flinch back as well with a scowl. There was a drop of blood on her finger. So it is done. His collar buzzed, and the conditioned words rose to his lips.

“Command me mistress, I am yours.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all the reviews and kudos I have been getting! You guys rule!

“Command me mistress, I am yours.”

Hermione was sure she had never been so red for so long. If this kept up she would be stuck with scarlet cheeks for the rest of her life. Tom was waiting for her, black eyes bottomless, some of the spark from earlier lost. She wanted to scream in frustration and cry at the same time, but it would do neither of them any good.

What she had to do now was establish a baseline of commands for him to follow. Without direction, the collar would take action on its own for punishments and rewards for the wizard it was attached to. Unfortunately for those who had to live under those conditions, the magic running the collars themselves was erratic without outside guidance. A simple noise of displeasure from their master could send the wizard into convulsions, even if said noise wasn’t aimed at the wizard themselves. Some people claimed letting the collar decide on its own kept their magicals sharp and obedient, others (like herself) called it needlessly cruel.

“First command, do no harm unless it is defense of myself or my family.”

Tom bobbed his head as the collar’s runic symbols glowed It was a standard first order given to magicals, and it would protect them both under the law if he had to fight. Not that Hermione intended on any such thing, but it was best to cover ones basis.

“Second command, You will not leave the property unless under my direction, except in the instances where I am injured or incapacitated and require assistance. Or if you are injured or in danger and require assistance for yourself.”

He tilted his head again in that curious puppy way of his. She knew what he was thinking, she had added the last bit herself. Hermione knew of more than one witch or wizard abandoned in homes when they became ‘too much’ to care for that slowly starved to death because of their collars. She knew of more that drowned, burned, or were crushed to death because they could not leave their homes in an emergency situation. That would not be Tom’s fate, not if she could prevent it.

“Third command, you will take no orders from anyone but myself. Choosing to do a favor under your own power and in your own time is allowed as long as it does not conflict with your orders or the law.”

She saw his eyes glitter with that dark emotion again before he nodded. Hermione hated to do it, but it was the only thing she could think of to keep her meddling mother from bossing Tom around. 

“Fourth Command you will only cast magic under my supervision, or in appropriate magical areas.”

This order was required to be given to all wizards. If they could freely use their magic, there would be war. At least that is what the government claimed. Hermione hated to admit it but there was truth in that statement, war would break out if wizards were set free, and it would be violent. Not that she could blame them. An uncomfortable prickling tickled at the back of her neck and she scratched at it with a sigh.

“That should do it I think,” she said tiredly. “I don’t want to give any more orders unless I have to.”

Tom’s lips creased into a frown. “Mistress-”

“Hermione.” She gently corrected.

“Hermione then,” he agreed “What exactly do you intend for me to do?”

The question threw her. What did she intend for him to do? Her confusion must have showed on her face so Tom continued.

“Most people set their wizards to a task, housekeeping, minding children, cooking, and so on. What is my task?”

She grimaced. What _could_ she have Tom do? Hermione hated having anyone doing anything for her that she could do for herself. “Honestly, there isn’t much to do around here for now. I was planning on spending most of the summer studying for my classes in the autumn.” She looked up at him. “What did you do before?”

His eyes narrowed sharply for a moment before returning to a neutral position. “She kept me as more of a pet then a domestic servant, I was ordered to keep myself in shape, eat, and sleep on a schedule. Sometimes I was ordered to- _play._ ” Tom spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully.

Play? What did he mean by-?

His meaning hit her suddenly and she sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. “She didn’t.”

“Oh she did, that was why I was sent to the shelter in the first place. Before your mother bought me, I was going to be put down.”

A chill worked its way down her spine.

“They were going to kill you for being _raped_?”

“No, they were going to kill me because no one wanted a wizard who had known a non magical woman carnally.” His eyes bore into hers and a different kind of shiver went down her spine. Shame quickly replaced the warm shivery feeling and she forced herself to look away from him. “I was ruined goods Hermione, I _am_ ruined goods. The only reason they didn’t castrate me when your mother bought me was because I have a pedigree.”

Her stomach rolled. “Because they could charge more for you.”

He bobbed his head.

“If it makes you feel any better I’m not planning on-” there went her cheeks again “On breeding you.”

He nodded again although there was scorn behind his eyes. He didn’t believe her. That frustrated Hermione but she forced the feeling away, he had no reason to trust anyone let alone a woman he just met. Determination rose up to take its place. She would earn Tom’s trust, and hopefully, one day, she could count him among her friends. As long as she lived he would never see a shelter again, and one day she would see him free. A memory of a young boy, this one with bright green eyes, flashed through her memory. _Harry._ Her heart ached. _I will see them all free_ she vowed, and she would do it without bloodshed.

Hermione shook her head. That was in the future, she had to focus on the now. Quickly, she pulled up her mental checklist of her things to do, and quickly started to rearrange them to include Tom. “My life is boring,” she said out loud and he blinked at the sudden subject change. “I am going into university, so I am planning on spending most of the summer in the library to prepare.”

That got an interested glimmer in his eye.

“You can be like a personal assistant.” She said, staring at the wall as she thought, tapping her fingers against her thigh in a restless rhythm. “Fetching things I need, carrying books, helping with my research. When I don’t need anything, and honestly that will be most of the time, you can do whatever you want as long as you don’t go too far.”

She looked back at him to find Tom staring at her.

“I find this, acceptable.”

Pure relief rushed through her. “I’m glad you do, because we start tomorrow.”

His eyebrow quirked. “Didn’t you just graduate yesterday?”

“This morning actually,” she admitted. “But, you can never start studying too early.”

Tom let out a choked, mangled sounding cough before he righted himself, keeping his lips pressed firmly together. Did he just laugh at her? She decided to ignore it. It was the reaction she had gotten all day from her peers. Just thinking about the hordes she had to deal with all morning drained her, and she would have to do it again soon too. Her graduation party. Oh lord her graduation party- what would people think when they saw Tom?

Her temples throbbed and she rubbed at them. That was a problem for another day. _I am starting to accumulate problems._ She thought crossly.

“I am planning on leaving early tomorrow morning,” to avoid her mother. “So we should get some sleep, but I want to give you a tour of the house first unless mum already did?” He shook his head. “I didn’t think so, she never thinks things through.”

“You two seem very unalike.”

Hermione snorted, that was an understatement. “Kristen means well, but we will never see eye to eye.”

“Kristen?”

“Her name, she hates it when I call her that though because she raised me most of my life. She is my stepmother.”

“Ah.”

Most people would never connect short, mousy, frizzy haired Hermione with the glamorous Kristen. The woman was tall, blond haired, slim, and graceful. No matter how hard the older woman tried to encourage her, growing up Hermione always felt like an ugly duckling who grew into a fine looking duck, but was lost in the shadow of a swan. It didn’t help that she had buck teeth, uncontrollable hair, and a natural social awkwardness she couldn’t seem to shake. “We went off track, now how about that tour?”

“After you.”

She nodded with a small, sad, smile and led him from the bedroom. Thinking about her childhood was wearing down what little energy she had left and every inch of her screamed for her cat and her bed. But she had to be a good host, and that meant looking after Tom until he was settled.

Gathering all the enthusiasm she could muster, she started her tour of the Granger household, Tom following behind her, silent as a shadow.


	4. Chapter 4

Tom was a light sleeper, so when the older Granger woman slipped into his room that night, he was instantly awake. With a quick burst of magic his eyesight sharpened and adjusted instantly to the dark. His collar clenched around his neck in warning but he ignored it as he watched Kristen pad her way over to his bed and settle on the edge of the mattress.

“Tom, are you awake?”

His collar remained still. He wasn't required to answer her, so he kept his mouth shut and stared at her. She stared back, blue eyes shining in the scant light. With a small sigh she reached out and ran a hand through his hair. Tom didn’t try and stop her as she curled her long fingers around the strands and scratched at his scalp as if he were a favored pet.

“I do so wish I could have kept you for myself.”

So she wanted him. Resignation settled over him like a familiar blanket and he gave an irritated sigh. Kristen’s eyes sparkled at the sound, clearly misconstruing its meaning and spread her caresses to his cheeks, gliding over his morning stubble.

“Poor Hermione needs you more than I do though.” Her fingers stopped at his throat, traveling now along his collar. “Pleasure.” She whispered.

The collar jumped to life and he felt the sting of one of the many needles embedded into it pierce his skin. He couldn’t stop the pleased groan that escaped his lips as every nerve he had sparked to attention. Kristen smiled, pulling the covers off of his suddenly fevered skin and quickly straddled him, he couldn’t stop himself from grinding up against her. Above him she shivered in delight when his cock brushed against a pair of silken panties.

“Yes,” she moaned and ground herself on him and he hissed in agonised pleasure. “It's been so long since I have been touched Tom, so long.”

He hissed again, hands going up to her hips and digging his fingers into the soft flesh there. Roughly he held her in place and thrust against her again. She squirmed like a worm on a hook.

“Oh, good boy,” she whimpered. “Such a good boy.”

Tom growled low in his throat in response. Kristen shuddered at the sound and fell forward. He was surrounded by a curtain of her hair, she used a floral shampoo, jasmine. Under that smell was the sweet scent of some kind of lotion, and beyond even that he could smell her arousal it was so thick.

The rational part of his brain was disgusted, but that part wasn’t in control anymore. Animal instinct, stimulated by the drugs racing through his system, demanded satisfaction.

“ _Madam_.” He growled through his teeth. The old pet name of his former mistress rose to his lips, unbidden, conditioned. She shivered at the sound of his voice.

“Oh Tom, take me, any way you want. _Pleasure_.”

He hardly felt the needle this time, and his rational mind faded further. With a snarl he flipped them, causing the leggy woman to squeak in response as he banished her panties with a flick of his fingers. His collar jolted him in reprimand, but at this point it was as effective as a bee sting would be to deter a charging elephant. He held her throat with one hand, and her pulse throbbed against his palm, but it wasn’t in fear. He snarled like an animal again, and with a single thrust he was inside her. She squealed at the suddenness of it, hands reaching up to hold the arm pinning her to the bed as he fucked the life out of her.

She didn’t try to stop him, but then she didn’t seem capable of speaking as he rammed into her with everything he had. Her walls clenched against him deliciously, and he thrust harder against her. He didn’t try to please her, it simply didn’t occur to his addled brain. He hungered for release and fought to achieve it. He grabbed Kristen’s pert bottom, pulling her closer with his free hand, burrowing himself deeper. She wrapped her legs around his hips in response, trying to pull him closer to her. He could feel her little gasps of pleasure against his hand as her throat fluttered against his palm. He tightened his grip again, and her eyes bugged out a bit, there it was- _fear._

His orgasm took them both by surprise, he shuddered, every muscle twitching as he came. Seconds later she joined him, her fluttering walls milking him for all he had. Tom fell forward, his body covering hers as they both recovered, he couldn’t help grinding into her as sparks of pleasure danced down his spine. He shut his eyes and buried his face into the softness of her hair, his thumb stroking at what he was sure was the bruised column of her throat. The drug was starting to bleed out of his system, and with it rationality returned.

It would be so easy to snap her pretty little neck like this. He idly thought as he continued his stroking of Kristen’s abused flesh. Or he could actually try to strangle her to death this time. He played with this idea unil the discomfort of being inside her insisted he pull out. He grunted as he pulled out of her heat and flopped down to the woman’s side, taking care not to touch her again. Tom’s eyes met hers, and for a moment they just stared at one another. One of her hands went back up to his cheek and he held perfectly still as she kissed him. If she noticed his lack of response, she gave no indication of it. When she was quite done she wiggled back to the opposite side of the bed, grinning like an idiot.

“This can only go on until my daughter leaves for Uni.” She said softly, as if she were trying to let him down gently. He wanted to roll his eyes, but instead only nodded. “I got you for _Hermione_.” She said, although she seemed to be telling herself that. “She is too bookish, too stern, too bossy… she will never attract anyone the way she is.” Kristen paused, looking up at him. “You will take very good care of her.”

He felt his collar buzz in recognition of the order, but he didn’t feel compelled to follow it. He only took orders from Hermione, and he found himself relieved she had let him have that much. Resentment that he needed her to give permission for something so simple bubbled up and he wished he could burn down the house around both women. Tom blinked when he realized she wanted a verbal confirmation.

“Yes, I will.”

She patted his cheek again. “Good boy.”

Kristen wiggled out of the bed, adjusting her nightgown so it hid the fact that she wasn’t wearing panties anymore, and smoothed down her hair. She took a few steps toward the full length mirror that was pressed against a wall. Gently she reached up and touched her discolored throat.

“Is there anything you can do about this?”

He was tempted to say no, to let her keep the telling marks, but that would only lead to trouble. Instead he nodded and beckoned her over. Before he finished calling up his magic his collar tightened around his throat again. With a small frown he gently tapped his collar to get Kristen’s attention. She let out a quiet “ah.”

“I give you permission to use your magic.” His collar loosened and didn't protest when the healing magic sparked from his fingers. The older woman gave a soft sigh as the bruises disappeared under his fingertips.

“Are all wizards so grand as you?”

His ego swelled for a moment under the praise before he stamped it down. “That isn’t for me to decide madam.”

She laughed. “Ah, well if it's up to me then I say you are a cut above the rest.”

He bobbed his head in thanks as she turned her back to him to examine her healed throat in the mirror. Tom settled back onto his pillows, eyes flicking to the alarm clock. Hermione would come looking for him in an hour. The prospect of spending the rest of his day among books soothed the part of him that snarled and snapped at being used again. _That is what happens when you allow yourself to relax._ But a foreign part of him murmured that Hermione would never use him so. He sniffed in disgust with himself. It would only be a matter of time before the little Muggle took advantage, they all did eventually no matter what they said. People would always take advantage as long as there were no immediate consequences.

“Use the shower before Hermione gets up.” Kristen warned.

Tom had been planning on it already and nodded as the elder Granger slipped out of his room. He didn’t want to see Hermione’s reaction if she discovered he had fucked her mother. She may have vowed to keep him through some twisted sense of justice, but women were fickle creatures.. Jealousy would rear its ugly head, and he would suffer the consequences for it.

It was ten minutes until his alarm when he decided to take his shower and wash the stink of Kristen off of himself. Hermione had provided him with his own towel to use the day before, and a single change of clothes that he had magically altered to fit his taller frame. It didn’t take much altering, it seemed Hermione’s father was almost as tall as he was, and the borrowed clothes didn’t fall too awkwardly on him. He grimaced as he collected the small set of toiletries he had been allotted and made his way to the bathroom.

He had not met the male Granger yet, and didn’t look forward to it. Before opening his dentistry practice with his late wife, the man had participated in the tail end of Wizarding War 2. Hermione had sounded regretful at this bit of information when she showed Tom her father's accolades on the mantel above their fireplace.

“Please don’t think too badly of him, he was drafted.”

Tom had only nodded in response and Hermione had continued her tour of the house. The glittering of the various awards and metals echoed in his mind as he scrubbed himself clean. As much as Hermione loved the man, he had no doubt that the older man would kill him for sleeping with his wife. _And with his daughter if Kristen gets what she wants._

Suspecting he had been bought as an elaborate sex toy for a girl hardly out of her teens was one thing, knowing was another. He dried his hair with extra vigor and almost laughed at himself. He was only just 21 himself, they were not that far apart in age, but in experience? He felt like he had lived liftimes. He was pulled from his thoughts by a gentle knocking on the door.

“Tom?”

“I am here mistress.”

He heard her exasperated sigh through the door and he almost smiled.

“Please call me Hermione.”

It wasn’t an order.

“As you wish, mistress.”

This time she let out a frustrated groan and he allowed himself to smile at her misery. If she did not want to order him about, he would gladly take advantage.

“ _Hermione_ ,” she stressed. “Are you done with the shower?”

“Yes.”

“Oh good.” The door opened. “I wanted to- _eeep_!” Her hands flew up to cover her eyes at the sight of his nude body. Tom chuckled as the exposed parts of her face turned bright red. “I thought you said you were done!”

“I am. I just need to get dressed.”

She muttered unkind things as she scrambled out of the bathroom. As much as the thought of sex with her disgusted him, teasing the prudish younger girl held great appeal. Perhaps that very nature would actually spare him from her bed if he kept her uncomfortable enough. He quickly dressed as he contemplated the idea. Flirting to repel was a new concept for him. But I can’t push her too hard. Enough to keep her away from me, but not enough to send me back to the pound.

He would test her boundaries a little, see how much she would allow him to get away with.

Tom opened the bathroom door with a sunny smile.

“The bathroom is yours, mistress.”

The bedraggled girl glared at him and ducked under his arm, the top of her tangled curls tickling against his arm as she brushed by. He could feel the door shut firmly behind him and he chuckled again, settling against the wall opposite the bathroom to wait for her.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione refused to speak to Tom, although her attempts at the silent treatment seemed more amusing to him than anything. She grudgingly broke the silence to ask him if he wanted anything to eat for breakfast, and again when they started eating to fill the silence. It was either that or stare at him while he ate, which she was sorely tempted to do. The man made eating fruit an almost erotic experience.  _ Get your mind out of the gutter.  _ She scolded herself and focused on slicing bits of mellon for herself.  _ It’s not like he is doing anything but eating. _ But the rapture on his face when he ate….

She lasted all of a minute before looking over at him again. He wasn’t stuffing his face, but there was an urgency to his eating that reminded her of the night before. She would bet he hadn't had a proper meal in a while and her grip on her knife tightened. Hermione had never been inside the local Shelters herself, but she had heard stories of the atrocities that happened in many of them. Beatings, cages, withholding food, medical help,  _ sexual abuse _ \- she hissed in pain.

“Mistress?"

Hermione gave him a tiny smile, wrapping her bleeding hand in a dish cloth.

“My hand slipped.”

Tom was by her side in an instant, gently taking her hurt hand and pulling back the cloth to see the damage.

“I can heal this, may I?”

She frowned in confusion before she realized he meant magic, she nodded. Tom held a hand over her cut and the pain slowly started to fade. Hermione couldn’t help watching his face through the process. His eyes were sharp in concentration, brow slightly furrowed, mouth tight. It was as if there was nothing in the world for him but her injury. Then he smiled, looking very pleased with himself.

“As good as new.

Hermione looked down. The cut was fully healed, with only a tiny strip of reddened skin to show for it.

“Wow.”

Tom chuckled, his thumb tracing over her healed flesh.

“You are easily impressed, mistress.”

Shivers raced down her spine with every gentle stroke of his thumb and she gently pulled away from him. 

“I suppose, I just don't see a lot of magic performed.”

Tom nodded. “I would imagine not, there are a great many rules that go against active magic.”

Hermione frowned. “Active magic?”

He looked at her. “How familiar are you on how magic works?”

Hermione’s frown deepened as she raked through her memory. Magic, and information about it, was heavily restricted. Old wizarding books had been locked away or burned, and classes taught on the subject were very basic and mostly centered on how outside influences could control it. Unless one was going into Magical RnD, the average person had little understanding of the process. Her ignorance shamed her, despite knowing there was nothing she could do about it right now.

“Not very,” she finally admitted “They keep most of that kind of information classified.

“I’m not surprised, even the majority of witches and wizards have no idea of the extent of their own abilities.” His tone was bitter, and her heart ached. “But to put it plainly, without making it too complicated, there are two types of magic our collars recognize. Active, and passive.”

She nodded.

“Active magic has an influence on the world around us, this kind of magic is what the collars try and prevent us from using.”

Hermione frowned. “You said,  _ try  _ to prevent you from using.”

He smiled. “So I did.” He held up a hand to stop her next question. “I am getting to that. Now, what you need to know about magic, the most important thing, it's all about intent.” Tom pulled over the piece of mellon she had been chopping before. His brow furrowed and he flicked his fingers. The fruit broke apart into perfect slices. Then Tom grimaced, looking more annoyed than pained, one of the runes on his collar was glowing red

“Notice I was not punished harshly for doing active magic.”

Hermione wished he hadn’t been punished at all, but nodded for him to continue.

“I intended no harm, only to slice a piece of fruit. But I was still casting without an order, so I was given a warning, a mild punishment. The punishment was further cut down because I was under your supervision.” She nodded along, fascinated and horrified all at once. “I would be on the floor, very much incapacitated if I tried to do something similar toward your person. Not that I would.”

There was that dark emotion behind his eyes again and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“But what about passive magic?”

He blinked at her question. “Ah, yes, that.” Tom took the knife she had cut herself with and took it to his own flesh. She yelped in surprise as he made a shallow cut on his forearm, and tried to go to him to check on the damage. He waved her back. “I will be fine in a moment, now passive magic-” he gestured to his injury. “I suppose the name is misleading, its not passive in the true sense of the word, but it is contained in the body or mind of witch or wizard who wields it.” Before her eyes Tom’s cut healed itself, and he looked to be in no discomfort. “The collars are not made to do much of anything against passive magic. Self healing and improvement is almost never punished as long as the effect is contained within the magical person.”

“That seems like a great oversight.”

“It wasn’t over looked. While it isn’t common knowledge, it is still known. Passive magic is considered harmless so it's not as heavily restricted.”

Hermione was fascinated. In just ten minutes of talking to Tom she had learned more about magic then she had in her entire academic life. 

“Why didn’t I know this before?”

Tom shrugged. “It’s not something many people care to ask about, but the information is out there.”

Hermione frowned and thought back to all her books and research. Normally she was quite through when it came to her studies, but as she turned over what she knew in her head she realized there were gaps. The back of her neck itched and she scratched at it as she thought. She was familiar with the basic magic most magicals could cast without a wand, and how the collars were operated and used. But magic itself? How had it escaped her notice?

“Library.” She said with a firm nod.

Amusement sparked in Tom’s eyes. “I do believe that was already on the agenda, mistress.”

Hermione perked up. “Yes, it was,” she bounced up from her seat. “Lets go-” she spied his plate of food. “If you are done that is.”

He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Taking that as an affirmative she gathered both of their plates and set them into the sink. That done she started her search for her scattered library books left around the house. Having Tom made the processes easier when he offered to summon them all, but they lost time when she had to argue over who would carry them. In the end Hermione reluctantly agreed to letting him carry the bulk.

“I do need something to do, and you already told me this was one of my tasks.”

“It's a long walk.” She warned.

“We are not taking a car?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, I try not to use mine unless I absolutely have to.”

She expected him to scoff, to ask why, but he only nodded and followed behind her as she led them through the front door. The morning was cool, much to her delight, and the streets were all but empty. She knew being seen with Tom would lead to questions, which would lead to conversations, which would lead to a lost day. People were just to nosey for their own good. Her father agreed, and kept threatening to move them to the country- a plan Hermione agreed with but Kristen had vetoed. Hermione still harbored a bit of resentment over it.

Everyone around them tended to stare and whisper when they saw her, and it made Hermione’s skin crawl. It has been years since her mother’s death, but the woman’s metaphorical ghost followed her daughter still, invisible to her but glaringly obvious to the neighbors. What galled her was she could remember nothing about her mother, so she couldn’t even properly defend her when the talk started.

Hermione glanced back to look at Tom. Perhaps with him around, the whispers would stop, although she doubted it. If anything things would probably get worse. She sighed as they trudged through the early morning streets, causing Tom to look over at her. Hermione shook her head at the question in his eyes and continued on.

If Tom was bothered by her silence, he didn’t make it known. Instead he seemed to be taking in the scenery. If not for the people, she supposed it  _ was  _ rather idyllic. There were well manicured lawns, flower beds, even a small stream that wound its way through the town. Boring, but peaceful.

“It’s peaceful.” Tom echoed her thoughts.

“It can be,” she agreed. “But it can get busy. It’s why I prefer to be up early.”

“Not fond of crowds?”

Hermione gave a rueful smile and shook her head. “No, more like crowds aren’t fond of me.”

“Indeed?” 

She couldn’t help smile at the incredulity in his eyes.

“It’s not something I like thinking about, but I suppose you deserve to know.” Before she could start, a woman she knew jogged past them, near startling Hermione out of her skin. “But later.”

Tom glanced at the retreating form of the jogger and nodded. “In private then, mistress?”

She sighed in relief. “If you don’t mind. It’s not like people don't know,” her arms tightened around the books she carried. “But I don’t like  _ them  _ to know it bothers me.” She jerked her head toward the slowly waking houses surrounding them. 

“I understand.”

Hermione was sure he did. 

Before she knew it, they had reached their destination. All but skipping, Hermione led Tom up the stairs to her favorite place in the world. The doors were in the process of being unlocked and the librarian greeted her by name as she let them through. Luckily the older man knew her well enough not to stop her as she quickly returned her old books and found her favorite table.

She was home.


	6. Chapter 6

Tom twisted his fingers into Kristen’s hair for a better grip as he fucked her throat. The woman gagged and dug her nails into his hips, hard enough to leave scratches. He couldn’t bring himself to care as she took even more of him into her molten mouth. A part of him was impressed she could manage it, the other hoped she would choke. She ran her tongue along the bottom of his cock, and he hissed in pleasure, gripping her hair harder. The woman hummed and repeated the action, and Tom could not stop himself from coming.

Kristen fell back on her haunches, pleased, and Tom found a nice piece of wall to stare at as the drugs finally burned out of his system. She reached out and stroked his thigh, and he looked down at her.

“Same time tomorrow, pet?”

“If you wish it Madam.”

She worked her way up his body, planting butterfly kisses along his skin. He shivered in disgust. When she made her way to his mouth she kissed him firmly and patted his cheek.

“I do wish it, now be a good lad and clean yourself up.”

Without another word she flounced from the room, a skip in her step, and Tom was alone once more. With a sigh he settled back onto his bed and allowed himself time to recover. His mind returned to the puzzle of Hermione Granger.

They had spent the entire day in the library, as promised, but he found it hard to focus on his reading. Instead most of his day was spent watching her. Her absolute focus was amazing to watch, and the speed she could read and retain information was astonishing to him. Tom was no slouch himself, but she took reading to extreme levels. All she had needed was a little taste of information, and away she went.

Their discussion about magic that very morning seemed to have lit a fire under the girl, and she combed through book after book for more. It wouldn’t do her much good, he knew, because he had once combed through many of the tomes she looked at himself. Tom only knew slightly more than the average person about magic and how it worked, and most of that was learned through experimentation. What he had told her was only fraction of what he knew, but it seemed enough to make her want to dig deeper.

If anyone could find lost magical knowledge, it would be this girl, and when she did he would be there to take it for himself.

The thought was almost enough to coax another erection out of him.

He shook his head and wrapped his towel around his waist. As much fun as it would be to tease her if Hermione caught him without his pants on, he didn’t want to push her any further today. He made his way back to the bathroom, pleased to find it empty, and took another shower. The water was scalding hot, and he scrubbed himself hard enough to turn his pale skin red. Logically he knew he couldn’t scrub the memory of Kristen off of him, but the scrubbing made him feel in control.

To distract himself he forced himself to think on his goals. He had only been with the Grangers for two days, and he felt he had a handle on the women of the family at least. The pattern would change again once Mr. Granger returned from the dental conference he was at. Tom wondered if Kristen would still come to him once her husband returned. He shook his head and forced himself to focus.

Hermione was an unexpected stroke of good luck for him. For one, her morals would not allow him to be sent away for minor transgressions. This gave him a bit of freedom of movement, and even a voice in how his life was run. He would remember that when he was free. Her thirst for knowledge was another boon. He had tested her earlier with what he knew of magic, curious to see what she would do with the knowledge, and she exceeded expectations. If he could coax her, guide her, into going into Magical RnD, then she would have access to the information he needed.

For now, they had a comfortable working relationship, and he would keep it that way as long as he could. Once they got into more restricted avenues, he would do what he must to keep her connections open to him.

If that meant seduction so be it.

The thought was an uncomfortable one, but if that was what it took, he would work every wile he had. For now, while he was still under her parent’s house, and while Kristen still came for him, he would continue as he was.

When the water started to cool, Tom finally turned the faucet off, and dried himself with a spell. His collar gave a small squeeze, but he ignored it. He wrapped his towel around his hips and started back towards his room.

He didn’t expect to see the girl on his bed.

Her head jerked up when he entered, and her cheeks reddened when she saw he was only clad in a towel. Hermione leapt to her feet and turned her back toward him.

“Oh! Tom, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to intrude, I can come back later if it would be better?”

Tom wouldn’t have minded getting to sleep, but he was curious. It was late, much later then he would have expected for her to seek him out. A part of him was alarmed. If she had been there just twenty minutes earlier she would have found him in a very compromising position. He doubted she would blame him, but it would spoil him in her eyes and that wouldn’t do.

“Now is fine, Mistress. Just give me a moment to get dressed.”

He ignored her irritated grumble to call her by her name as he slipped on a pair of pajama bottoms. Tom didn’t bother with a shirt, and when he told her to turn around she didn’t order him into one either. Although her cheeks were staying a charming rosy color as she tried not to look at his chest.

“I wanted to finish that talk we had earlier.”

He tilted his head to the side.

“Which talk, mistress?”

“About why the town is so fascinated with us.” She sat down on the edge of his bed, and without prompting he joined her, sitting close enough to touch. Hermione wiggled at their proximity, but didn’t complain. “It’s hard for me to talk about, but you need to know.”

He nodded, curious.

“My mother was arrested for witchcraft.”

Tom blinked. _ Well, that was unexpected. _

Her mouth twisted into a rueful little smile. “It wasn’t true, at least I don’t think it was. Dad and mum, they were both outspoken for magical rights, so people already talked. But the government, they claimed they traced magic to our house, and mum… mum was the one they took.” The girls hands tightened into fists. “They didn’t even provide any proof, claimed mum confessed, and took her away to be put down.”

Something niggled at the back of Tom’s mind, but he ignored it as he focused on Hermione. Her eyes were hard, and dry.

“I don’t think she had a drop of magic to her name, I think they did it to keep dad quiet. He used to be political before they took her, now he hardly speaks a word to anyone he doesn’t know.” She fiddled with the edge of her shirt. “But people still talk. They look at us like we are about to explode with magical power,” she gave an unladylike snort. “Which is ridiculous, but you know how people are.”

That he did.

She looked over at him. “I just wanted you to know, before you heard it from someone else. The story has gotten blown out of proportion, and I don’t want you to think-  _ badly  _ of us.”

“I wouldn’t have, mistress.”

She sent him a relieved smile, and that itch in the back of his mind sprung to life again. There was something he should be paying attention to about her story, but what? He was distracted by her sudden frown.

“You have scratches.”

He followed her gaze to his exposed hip. Kristen's scratches.  _ Shit.  _ Trying not to betray his sudden panic he pulled the pj bottoms higher.

“It’s nothing, I just caught the edge of a desk earlier.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you heal it?”

“Magical exhaustion,” he lied. “Casting without a focus can be draining.” True enough.

“Oh,” she suddenly muttered, looking embarrassed. Hermione scratched at her healed hand guiltily. “That was my fault, wasn’t it?”

Tom sighed and shook his head. “Don’t fret mistress, it's just a small scratch. I will be right as rain in the morning.”

She looked unsure. That wouldn’t do.

“If you don’t believe me, I have no problem letting you examine every inch of me for damage in the morning.”

Hermione shot up from his bed as if she had been stung. “NO! No, that will not be necessary, I believe you,” her face was red again, to his amusement. She was edging her way around him, and towards the door. “I will just let you get to bed then shall I?” She inched closer to the door. “I told you what I needed to, and everything is fine- good night!”

She dashed out the door and he couldn’t help laughing. He wouldn’t admit it was mostly relief that she had bought his lie that caused it. He would have to be more careful in the future, if he wanted to keep Hermione from the truth.

Tom closed his door firmly before going back to his bed, but not before healing his scratches.

His dreams were filled with betrayed brown eyes, and the cold iron of the shelter cages.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its short I know but the next chapter will be up quickly! We are almost to deep plot yo.

“I’m so sorry poppet, if I had known what she was going to do I would have stopped her.” 

Hermione drew her knees up to her chest, and readjusted the bulky corded phone against her other ear.

“I know papa. It’s not your fault at all.”

She heard her father sigh and could almost see him rubbing at his eyes. “If you like, I can find him a new home-”

“No!” She heard him make a surprised sound at her venom. “He isn’t some trinket to give away on a whim, he is a person and while he is here he is…. Family.”

Although most girls didn’t feel so drawn to their  _ family  _ members. She was glad her father couldn’t see her face, it would have given her away in an instant. 

“My sweet girl,” the honey in his voice warmed her to her very core. “I’m so proud of you.” It felt almost wrong to be praised for being a decent human being, but she couldn’t help the thrill of joy at the pride in his voice. His next words made her feel cold though “I will have a talk with Kristen when I get back. She has overstepped your boundaries, and  _ my  _ wishes.”

It was rare she heard that ice in his voice, and she hated it. It only helped a little that his anger wasn’t aimed at her, not that it ever had been. Kristen drew his ire, his venom, every nasty belligerent feeling the man had- she was always the target. Hermione never could understand why they had been together as long as they had. Hermione suspected the woman was a long term rebound after losing his wife, but his pride wouldn’t let him cut her loose. Things were usually tense between them even on their best days, and even then they were only civil in front of her. She still heard their hushed fights when they thought her sleeping, although she could never make out what the fights were about in the first place.

Kristen wasn’t so bad most days. Controlling, contrary, and much too worried about appearances for Hermione’s tastes. But the woman had nursed her when she was sick, helped her with homework when she was little, even showed up to every event Hermione had participated in. She wasn’t a  _ bad  _ person, despite the fact that Hermione found her overbearing.

“I can talk to her myself-”

There was a loud crash on her father’s end that caused him to swear.

“I have to go dearest, I will see you tomorrow.”

“What was-?” The line went dead “That.” She finished with a sigh, and set the phone back into its cradle. She settled her chin back on her knees, and shut her eyes, taking in the silence that now surrounded her. It was always too quiet after her phone calls to her father. It didn’t help that Kristen had all but kidnapped Tom earlier. 

They had been reading together for the fourth night in a row, Tom at the island in the kitchen, Hermione at the dining room table. Both had books sprawled on every inch of space. Hermione’s hunger for information about magic, how it worked, and its applications had only been growing as she saw how little was actually documented. It slightly shamed her that she was putting aside her studies on politics. After all, studying magic itself wouldn’t lead to the kind of reforms she wanted to make. But she also knew she couldn’t resist any new information until she had dug her mental claws into it.

It didn’t help that Tom was constantly encouraging her, giving her book after book to keep her interest piqued, and answering every question she asked as soon as she asked it. It also didn’t hurt that the information could prove useful when she was pushing for policy changes for magical rights and liberties. 

It had been peaceful until Kristen had intruded on their peace.

“I’m sure poor Tom is tired of being cooped up here all day, let me take him out.” The woman had tugged Tom up, linking her arm with his and holding it firmly against her side. It had made Hermione bristle in outrage, but if Tom was similarly bothered he didn’t show it. Instead he had blinked slowly, his face bland.

“Tom?” 

He had turned his attention to her. His eyes empty of anything.

“Yes, mistress?”

“Do you want to go with mum?”

There was a flicker in his expression, a slight tightening of his mouth, a small shift of weight so he was putting the tiniest amount of distance between him and her mother. 

“If you wish it, I will go.”

Before Hermione could say or do anything Kristen had tightened her grip on Tom’s arm, her smile serene. “I’m sure it would be her  _ pleasure  _ to have you come with me.” It was almost like Kristen had set a spark to dynamite. Tom tensed, pupils blowing to almost obscene proportions as he peered down at Kristen. She could see a vein pop from how tightly he clenched his jaw, she even thought she saw his collar vibrate.

The wizard’s nose had flared, like an animal taking in a scent, and a tremor started in his free hand. When he turned to look back at Hermione, she almost cringed back at the wild hunger in his gaze. As if it took everything he had not to leap at her.

_ What on earth? _

“It would bring me great  _ peace of mind  _ to have him with me as well.”

As if a switch had been flipped off Tom had slumped, his posture dropping into a slight slouch. He looked exhausted, as if he had run a marathon in the dead of summer. Hermione would swear she saw him sweating.

“Are you OK, Tom?”

He had twitched at the sound of Hermione’s voice. “Just feeling a bit off color, it's fine.”

“See there, the poor thing needs some time away from this house and dusty old books.” Before Hermione could stop her or protest, Kristen started dragging Tom toward their garage. He followed limply after her, as if he had no energy to resist the slim woman. His dark eyes found Hermione’s for a moment before he was firmly tugged away, his expression was pure resignation.

Like a shot she was after them, but Kristen moved faster in heels then she had any right to. By the time Hermione made it to the garage Kristen was already starting her car. At the sight of Hermione she had given a small wave and quickly pulled out of the driveway. 

“ _ Hey! _ ” She had snarled after the car. The back of her neck itched fiercely as the rage rolled through her body. What right did the woman have to just  _ drag  _ Tom around like a rag doll? Hermione might have shouted rude things after the car if she didn’t spot the elderly woman next door eyeing her with interest. Hermione didn’t force herself to smile at the old busybody, instead she had marched back inside and fumed.

That was when the phone had rang.

Hermione glanced over at the kitchen clock. She had been on the phone longer than she had thought, it was getting late. Hermione kept one eye on the window that looked directly out at the street as she tried to salvage her study session. Another hour passed before she gave it up as a bad job.   _ If they aren’t back soon I’m going searching for them.  _ She thought crossly just as Kristen pulled into the driveway. 

Time again for another argument.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok y'all, I can explain! I wanted this chapter out months ago, but a huge life event kind of distracted me! I'm going to have a baby! And my body hates that fact! I have been so sick I could hardly read let alone write so I hope for a bit of forgiveness for the lapse. I seem to be feeling better, fingers crossed, so I will try and get things out as quick as I can! Please enjoy, and thanks for sticking with me!

From the first pinch of the needle, Tom’s day was blurred. 

 

He vaguely remembered grocery shopping, the admiring glances and touches of people they passed. The haunted, frightened looks of his fellow pets as their owners shoved them in his direction. He remembered hands, hot against his skin, lust and rage pounding through his veins, voices whispering what a good boy he was. Eyes, so many eyes on his bare body in a place he didn’t know that reeked of pine, and the constant pricking of the needle on his collar. He closed his eyes, and when they opened again he was back in Kristen’s car, the woman jabbering excitedly as he drifted. 

 

Feeling weaker then he had in a long while, he reached up to tug weakly at his collar. His neck hurt, the old calluses that used to protect him rubbed open and raw for the first time in years. His veins burned hotly and he remembered the last time this had happened, although not to this extreme before. Potion overdose. The words echoed dully through his addled mind, and what was left of his rationality was alarmed.

 

The potions running through his system unchecked could cause long term, or even permanent damage to his magic, and there he was nothing he could do to stop it. Tom closed his eyes again, and the next time he opened them Hermione was there, brown eyes wide in worry. He didn’t remember making the move, but after blinking, he was out of the car and back in the kitchen, standing somehow between the two screaming women.

 

Tom’s eyes flicked back and forth as the two Grangers snarled at one another, and idly wondered if he should do something. The urge wasn’t a strong one though, and he took a small step back to lean against the counter. When Kristen threw a book onto a table to make some sort of loud point, Hermione went on another snarling tirade that he couldn’t keep up with.

It was mildly annoying, but with so many drugs racing through his muddled mind he was still amazed he was able to stand. Being unable to understand spoken english was incredibly inconvenient though. 

 

He narrowed his eyes as he tried to decipher just what the screeching females were on about now, but quickly gave it up as a bad job. He might as well be watching a nature documentary for all he could understand what was going on. The gestures were aggressive, the sounds were clearly being made to intimidate the rival females, and if they had claws he was sure there would be blood. But what caused the violence was a mystery to him.

 

When they paused to breathe, perhaps preparing to go to another round, Hermione spied him. She shot a question in his direction and he frowned, muddled mind trying to decipher what she wanted. He must have said something, his mouth moved, but it was clearly wrong. Hermione was staring at him, eyes were wide in alarm as she slowly approached him. Her hand went to his cheek, and he couldn’t help shuddering in delight, leaning into the touch. He must have said something else then, because she went pale in what seemed to be shock. Then her cheeks turned a fetching shade of red that didn’t seem to have anything to do with embarrassment.

 

The younger girl was angry, so angry he could almost taste it. That was new too, he had never been able to taste emotions before. It was like cinnamon gum. With all the gentleness she seemed to have left, Hermione guided him to a comfortable chair in the next room. Tom glanced over at Kristen as he was guided away, the woman looked  _ afraid  _ now. Tom made a small contemplative sound in the back of his throat as Hermione wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. He had no clue why Hermione had done it, he wasn’t cold, but he supposed it was a nice gesture.

With another gentle pat that made him groan in delight, Hermione turned from him to stare at Kristen.

 

The blond woman took a step back, snarling something again, and Hermione advanced on her. What happened next was a bit of a blur for Tom, but he was sure he heard crashing, more screaming, and he was even sure he saw Hermione wielding a broom. His stomach churned at the chaos and he closed his eyes, only for a sharp pain to erupt on his cheek. He opened his eyes to glare at the pale face of Hermione.

 

“Stay awake for me Tom.” She begged.

 

He blinked slowly, annoyance flaring up.

 

“M’sleep.”  He grumbled lowly.

 

“You can’t, not until I can get help.”

 

He grumbled something else and settled back down to try and drift off again, but the little muggle would have none of it. She slapped his cheek again and in a rage he stumbled to his feet to try and leap at her. How  _ dare  _ the little bint strike him, he gnashed his teeth like an angry animal but it didn’t seem to intimidate her. Instead, she dodged his clumsy blow and curled into the side of his body, throwing his arm over her shoulders to support his weight.

 

She felt nice, like a warm little water bottle against his overstimulated body. His head drooped and fell on top of her curls. Hermione smelt nice and he rumbled something into her hair. He felt her freeze for a moment, then relax.

 

“You’re high, you don’t mean that.” She whispered, and he knew he wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t nuzzling her head. Tom shrugged as best he could as she all but carried him to her parent’s bedroom. As she settled him on the mattress that reeked of Kristen, she jabbered at him. He only caught half of what she said, but what he did hear seemed to be nonsense. Tom was even convinced he heard her call him  _ daddy  _ once. It didn’t do much good though, Tom could feel himself drifting back to sleep, and not even slapping his cheeks was enough to get him to move. 

 

He was so damned tired. 

 

Somewhere in the back of his head he was alarmed to discover his heartbeat was becoming slower and slower. 

 

“Stay with me Tom, stay awake.” Hermione wept, and he was sure she was weeping. He could feel her tears on his neck, the weight of her body on his chest. He wanted to tell her he wasn’t keen on dying, that this wasn’t his choice, to get the fuck off of him because he hurt. But he could say nothing, do nothing, as he got weaker and weaker. Fear caused his magic to spike, reaching up in a last ditch effort to heal him. But the potions were designed to resist magical tampering, he may as well have been trying to fight a dragon with a stick.

 

He was going to die.

 

The thought brought some clarity, but not much. 

 

He was going to die before he even had a chance to fight back, before he had a chance to see his plans through, because of a horny housewife. Rage bolstered his  magic, causing it to rise up, to try again. The stick became a club, and somehow he bolstered his failing heart. Tom wouldn’t die without a fight.

 

He shivered, and Hermione burrowed herself closer to him, muttering, begging, pleading, demanding he fight into his ear. Then, he felt something, although sensed might have been the proper word for it. A reserve of power. Tom let the poison attack him again as he reached for his salvation.

 

Outwardly he could feel his hand reaching out for Hermione, his fingers tracing up her spine to the nape of her neck.  _ There!  _ He grabbed her, hard, and she let out a shriek of pain as the power reserve she somehow carried inside her rose up to meet him. His magic reached out and grabbed what looked to his mind's eye like golden thread. Tom wasn’t very sure what was happening as the golden magic- and it  _ was  _ magic- lashed out against his.  _ Help me _ . He begged the power, his own magic clinging to it. To his surprise, it hesitated briefly before smacking his very weak magic away. It reminded him of a mother smacking a child’s hand when they reached for things they were not supposed to.

 

Feeling his limit being reached, his magic retreated back to try and protect his heart again, resigned. Tom’s fingers loosened their grip on Hermione, and she scrambled away from him. The golden threads of foreign magic going with her.

 

He was losing against the poison coursing through his system. His brief burst of rage induced power flickering away as fear took its place. It was prolonging the inevitable, he knew it instinctively, but it didn’t stop him from trying.

 

Tom wasn’t sure how long he fought, but it felt like an eternity as he weakened even more. But then, he felt something. It took everything he had left to pay attention.

 

A small, gentle hand took his, and was placed gently on the back of a smooth, warm, surface. There was the golden light again, blazing bright with righteous purpose. He didn’t have to reach for it, it flooded into his system like a tidal wave, power swamping- but not overcoming- his own magic. It bolstered him, fueled him, fought for him, giving much needed energy to his sick body, and somehow burning the potions out of his system.

 

He could feel his breathing ease, his mind clear, and his heart pound. But even combined with his own, the magic could only do so much. As soon as he could feel himself edging out of the danger zone, the warm golden magic left him to return to its source. Tom reached for it one last time, the aggressive red of his own magic twining around the gold.  _ Thank you.  _ He breathed, and let go, letting himself sink into oblivion.

 

-

Tom jerked awake at the feeling of a cold hand on his brow, and lashed out to snag it. He opened his eyes, and tried to ignore the pain as they adjusted to the warm light entering the room.

 

“Easy,” a deep masculine voice soothed. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

 

Tom blinked, eyes burning, as he desperately tried to make sense of what was going on. The man who stood over him held absolutely still as Tom’s eyes raked over his form. The newcomer was a large man, with tired dark brown eyes that seemed oddly familiar set into a stern face. He clearly hadn’t shaved in a while, if the thick stubble covering his jaw was anything to go by, and the lines that covered his face were deep with exhaustion.

 

“Who are you?”

 

“Hermione’s father.” 

 

Tom slowly let go of the man, and the elder smiled softly at him. “There we go.” He soothed and resumed doing… whatever it was he was doing. Taking Tom’s temperature? The large hand on Tom’s brow slowly moved to his cheeks, resting against them gently, to his throat, where he carefully squeezed. Tom couldn't help flinching when those slow moving fingers traced around the edge of his collar and poked at the large bruises he knew he had. 

 

“You’re very lucky to be alive young man, do you remember what happened?” The elder Granger’s eyes were sharp, searching.

 

Tom frowned, thinking back, but all he could recall were blurred images of hands, the sharp jabbing of the needle, and Hermione begging him to stay with her. Then something about golden light? He shook his head slowly.

 

“It isn’t clear,” Tom admitted slowly, eyeing the man. “Master.” He added.

 

The large man snorted. “ _ Master.  _ “ He repeated with a shake of his head. “Please, if you must call me anything, call me George.” He didn’t give Tom time to say anything about that and shone a light into his eyes, forcing the younger man to flinch. “Normal,” the man said, sounding pleased. “Do you feel sick at all?”

 

It was the first of many questions the older man drilled him with, and after each answer George would only shake his head in amazement.

 

“Astonishing, you took a dose of potions large and strong enough to kill the average person. By all accounts you should be very dead.”

 

Tom couldn’t help cringing at the statement. “I think I  _ was  _ dying, sir. I’m honestly not sure how I recovered.” The memory of golden light rose in his mind's eye again and he shook his head to clear it.

 

The older man smiled again. “Well, I have no idea myself, by the time Hermione got in contact with me you should have been too far gone to save. I’ve not seen anything like it before.”

 

Tom shrugged, unsure of what to say, but it didn’t seem to bother the man. But then the elder’s smile faded, and his expression turned deadly serious.

 

“We have a lot to talk about son, and none of it pleasant.” On that ominous note, the older man settled back into a chair by the bedside Tom hadn't noticed before, and leaned forward. “I sent Hermione away to get us some things to help with your recovery, so we have time to speak candidly.” 

 

Tom’s eyes narrowed and his had to fight hard to keep his fists from clenching. His magic rose up, slow and sluggish like a serpent waking after a long frozen winter, ready to strike. The magic settled back down when his collar tightened around his neck, sensing the aggressive intent. Tom forced himself to relax, whatever happened next, he could do nothing to stop it with violence. He could only hope lies would be enough.

 

“What do we need to discuss, sir?”

 

The man took a deep breath, his dark eyes serious as he stared at Tom. 

 

“Let's start with the hard questions first... how long have you been sleeping with my wife?”


End file.
